Annie, Are You Okay?
by BlairxProdz
Summary: He came to me with his problems, and I listened. I guess that's what landed me in my own home with the most famous singer in the world. It's been a struggle concealing the truth from my family, and friends. But I'll try to get through it, except one problem is my face is plastered on every single TV screen, when people believe I actually King-napped Michael Jackson.
1. 3:07 AM - December 21st

_**WARNING - THIS IS NOT A TVD FF, THIS IS A MICHAEL JACKSON FANFICTION. HE DOES NOT HAVE A CATEGORY ON THIS WEBSITE.**_

Do you know that feeling, when something heavy, and sad passes through your body and suddenly all you want to do is cry? It's happening to me right now, I can't help how emotional I get when I watch the news, Katherine Jackson's face plastered on the screen, her eyes staring directly at you, like she can see straight into your soul.

"_I just want to know he's okay."_ She tries to hold back the sob, I watch her blink away a tear, but it spills freely and she doesn't do a thing to wipe it away. "_I just want my son back,"_ Katherine chokes out into the microphone supplied for her.

Tears stream hotly down my cheeks, and I clutch my support pillow closer into my chest as if I want it to melt into me. I let out a strangled breath and adjust myself on the livingroom couch.

The house is silent, dark and scary. The blue, and red lights blaring from the television casts its glow on me, it's the only thing you can see in this night.

"_Please just give him back to me." _Her last words before the reporter takes the camera makes me sob a bit more, my nose stuffy and my face wet and dirty. I clamp my eyes shut until a laundry detergent informercial shocks me awake.

I finally release the pillow from my grasp and crawl to my feet, the wooden boards underneath my bare toes are cold, but thanks to the warm Minnie Mouse pajama tank and bottoms, I am completely warm from the ankles up.

I wipe a bit more at my eyes, which are probably red and head for the kitchen, it's connected to this small, cluttered livingroom. The house is very small, and I actually like it. It's a bit...romantic? I shake my head.

After successfully filling my mug with water I microwave it until it is warm, when it beeps I hurry and retrieve the mug so it won't awake my house guest.

My mother, Freya, was perfect at making her tea. Especially how she found a way to make Cinnamon and Ginger taste like the perfect, spicy hot beverage.

Which is the way I just prepared my own tea, a cinnamon tea bag and pepper it up with some ginger. I add the sugar and sip it.

Perfectly delicious. Seriously, _perfect_ is the only word for it. I lean my back against the small table in the center of the kitchen and gulp my tea. The ginger leaves a spice in the back of my throat, that, under any other circumstance, would have hurt. But this is pleasure for me.

"_Diana_?"

I nearly choke on the tea, and I whirl to see _him_. Dressed up in his red pajama pants and long-sleeved black tee is Michael, I must've woken him up even though I tried not too. It appears to have been futile.

I sit the tea on the counter and catch the breath he had just taken. Tangled black curls are falling over his round eyes, and I wanted to tell him just how beautiful he looked in that moment. Except that'll be creepy, like _really_ creepy.

"_Diana, what are you doing up so late_?" I try to ignore the spark that goes through me as my name rolls off his tongue.

I mean, I've heard him _sing_ _Diana_.

Never _speak_ it.

Immediately, my eyes dart toward the television. The commercials are over and one of the reporters are talking about him, about Michael. I wonder how they have the energy to be up all day and be able to report all night.

I guess everyone _loves_ Michael.

_Wrong move, Diana_. Because Michael's gaze follows mine and lands on the television.

I recall yesterday when I had been sobbing at the television and Michael had come into the room and shut the TV off. He'd told me not to watch the news anymore, because it'd just make me sad, and that's why he'd avoided watching it himself. He couldn't risk seeing his family's faces and feeling guilty.

I look down guiltily and Michael sighs, tilting his head at me. I wait for him to bark at me, or do something but he just raises his eyebrows and says:

"Got any more of that tea? It's smells delicious."

I let out a relieved sigh and shake my head. "No, but you can have mine-I'm tired anyway." I push the mug across the table toward him and he takes it.

"_Thank you_."

And with that I stroll across the hall toward my real bedroom, where the bed is undone and my Mickey Mouse sheets are strangling the dark gray ones.


	2. 11: 20 AM - December 22nd

Call me a _creep_, or just about anything but I can't help it.

Who can resist? Seriously? I sure can't, not with his mouth hanging ajar, possibly drool dribbling out onto the purple gingerbread pillow case.

His body continuing it's rhythm, it takes three seconds for him to take a breath, I lean against the door my arms crossed over my chest and take a breath of my own.

It took everything, for me to resist pushing aside the shiny dark curl dangling over his closed lids. I imagined if he opened his eyes, I'd be welcomed into a brown heaven. A smile curved at my lips, and for a second I just thought about things.

_Michael Jackson_, okay? Is resting in my house bedroom. Its still so hard to believe.

He shifted over in bed, causing the thick comforter to slide from his skin to the floor, and if I thought he'd be bare from waist down then I should be disappointed because he was wearing boxers.

I shivered, realizing how cold it was. The snow had piled a lot since last Saturday. Sighing, I looked over to Michael who had to be freezing if he were wearing a sweater shirt and underwear.

Being the good samaritan I was, I strolled inside and grabbed the blankets from the floor, then covered his body with them. Smiling at his response, which was softly brushing his face against the thin fabric of the duvet.

Ready to turn and rush out because my cheeks were beet red, something warm latched onto my wrist and I looked down to see it was his hand. Confused, I rose my eyebrows wondering what possessed him to do such a thing.

"_Stay." _He whispers, brushing his cheeks against the blanket again, a warm smile on his face.

If it was possible, I got redder. When Michael released my arm, I nodded, telling myself _nothing_ was crazy about this. Absolutely _NOTHING. _

With a determined breath, I climbed into the bed and then realized I was cold, so I curled into a ball and burrowed into his chest, groping for warmth. Then his arm snaked around my back and there it was. There was the warmth.

I released a breath I hadn't noticed I was holding, and rubbed my face into his sweater, immediately I smelled that spicy scent of his. I relished it.

I felt my eyes slipping close, and I welcomed the impending slumber.

"_Diana."_

My eyes snapped open, the desire to rest forgotten. His lids were still closed but by the way he was breathing, I could tell he was awake. "_Yes?" _I whispered.

His voice was soft hum, compared to my whisper. "_Can I call you Annie?"_ I tensed in his hold, just as his free hand began to tangle in my dark brown locks.

"_Sure." _I whispered, _completely_ sure.

After a while, a question was ringing in my head and I couldn't hold it in any longer.

"_Michael,_ _why did you want me to stay_?" I tilted my head upwards, his eyes were still closed, except what I didn't realize was that his hands had not continued their stroking in my hair.

His breathing was even and he was _so _still. He was _asleep_.

I laughed silently to myself.


	3. 5:30 PM - December 22nd

Expecting to awake with pain, uncomfortableness and headaches, I opened my eyes with a grunt. Only to find I was warm, I was comfortable and there was no pain. Images from before slumber flashed in my head and my eyes widened.

His arm was compacted around my back, so tight I was pressed against his strong chest. My hand, I realized with horror, was dangling across his hip. We were lying like we would be hugging.

I lifted my arm to check the time on my watch and gasped. _5:33_! We'd slept for 6 hours? I looked up to tell him just that when I realized just how peaceful he looked, his lips quirked up a bit. Like he was dreaming of heaven.

I softly slipped from his grasp, his spicy aroma disappearing once I was away from the bed. Before leaving, I turned back and admired his chiseled features and _then_ left.


	4. 8:00 PM - December 22nd

I flipped the last pancake, turning off the stove and placing it into the empty plate, the other was already finished, I'd buttered and syrup-ed Michael's already and now it was time for _mine_.

I put both plates at the table, his plate across from mine, after pouring some milk and taking some chocolate chip cookies from the fridge to put in a plate I smiled at my handiwork. Brushing my hair back in a bun for when _Michael_-nevermind.

I yelped his name after a series of trying to perfect it with my voice. After a while he came into the kitchen, he was still in his boxers and sweater, and he looked so..._good_? I mean, he _always_ _looks_ good but right now I don't mean physically.

He sighs as he sits in front of his plate and looks up at me, warm brown eyes staring into mine.

_Oh_, I could just melt.

"_Ah_," said Michael, smirking. "First good sleep I've had since…" He trailed, sadness overtaking his features. I had gone from melting to wanting to hug him.

"_Thank you_." He said instead, making me look up in surprise.

_Thank me_? Holy Chucks! But for what?

I tilt my head in confusion. "For what?"

Michael rose his eyebrows. "Well, you _were_ in the bed with me, weren't you?"

I flushed bright red, my cheeks warm. "_Yeah?_." I drawled, not really getting it.

"And since this is the first good sleep I have had since I left home, I figure it's because of you. _So_...now I say _thank you_, Annie." With that, he grabbed his fork and began eating.

I'm still slack-jawed. He _remembered_, he'd actually called me Annie.

"Your welcome." I said at last, dropping into my seat and enjoying my breakfast along with him.


	5. 8:30 PM - December 22nd

BeakerState couldn't go unnoticable, I mean it was my favorite shop in Brooklyn, it was organized-always light and happy and there were friendly people there. I strolled down the canned goods aisle, leaning my elbows against the cart.

It was a Sunday and it was packed with people, I tried my best to blend in, not knowing why. After searching the label to a tomato can I chucked that into my cart, and continued lazily down the aisle.

By the time I had finished in the can aisle my cart was full of canned fruit, and beans. I was deciding on a _great_ dinner tonight, since I hadn't cooked in a while, we usually ate cereal or...nothing. Which was wrong, my pale limbs were already getting skinny, I mean don't get me wrong I'm a pretty slim girl and I have a little meat on my bones so I couldn't go any thinner.

As I was approaching the gum stand, I had begun to reach for Trident Layers when a magazine caught my eye. I shrank back and grabbed it, the familiar face of Michael on it. I leaned against my cart as I read: **JACKO DEAD?**

"_Tabloids._" I muttered, not bothering to: '_**Read more on page eight**_,' And slapped the paper back in its place. That paper had me even more thrilled Michael had come to me with his problems. I didn't think he'd ever like me when I first came to work at the Neverland Ranch.

My phone began to vibrate in the back pocket of my skirt, I reached behind and clicked it on. There was a text message from my sister.

_**Gloria**_: _still comin home for Christmas?_

I had forgot. Completely forgot the annual gathering the Cartwrights held every December _25_th. I mentally slapped myself before punching in a quick response.

_**Me**_: _yeah, still stacked with a bunch of work, but I'll try :)_

I sighed, I never lied to my sister. We were close like your thumb and index finger pressed together! I strolled down the aisle and tucked my cell back in my pocket. Then I approached the checking out area.

I place my food onto the conveyer belt and waited, trying to take my eyes off of the tabloids, sometimes they are too tempting to look at. I was close to surrendering when-

"So, where do you think he went?" Asked the male cashier, as he tucked my canned goods into paper bags.

I blinked in confusion. "Where do I think who...?" I trailed in question.

He tilted his head to the side as if I was supposed to know what he was talking about and then nodded to my direction, I turned to see a MJ magazine.

"Michael Jackson." He said, loudly. Making me want to shush him.

I shrugged. "Maybe Hawaii." I kid with him, thinking back to this morning.

_Stay - _ he'd said.

I shrug away this feeling I felt creep on me this morning, it's like a warm breeze sweeping across my skin. I shift uncomfortably and collect my items.


	6. 12:40 - December 22nd

"_Your name?" _

"_Diana Cartwright."_

"_And you're here to see Mr. Jackson?" _

"_Yes, I'm applying for the nursing position."_

I'd always held a crush on Michael Jackson since I was a little girl, and to be honest, now 24, I still hold that crush, except now it's a secret.

I crawled out of bed, thinking of the first time I entered the Neverland Ranch, and grabbed my diary. I'd jotted down everything crazy that happened since then.

_Dear Diary, _

_It's January 2001, and this is my first journal. _

_YAY! Right? _

_My name is Diana Wesley Cartwright and I'm 12 years old. _

_My mother kept reminding me how all Cartwright women kept journals and I finally gave in. It turns out to be a bit fun, though._

_My father he...moved out when I was 11._

I flipped the page multiple times, desperate for some reason.

_Dear Diary,_

_It's December 2004._

_I hate him. I hate my stepfather so much I don't even feel like writing, but you're the only one I can turn to. The only one who helps me, THE ONLY ONE I CAN TRUST!_

_A part of me knew, after the horrifying stories of Richard Tinsel, that letting him into my life would be chaotic. And it has been. He's hit my Mother, he's cheated on her, he's hit me and little Gloria and she's only 7 years old!_

_He...told me not to tell anyone. And I listened, he told me not to tell Mom, or Granny, even Gloria. _

_But he's a sick bastard and I'm telling YOU, Diary. Okay?_

_My Stepdad he's … kissed me, and he's tried to touch me. I remember waking up and finding him lying behind me. And he was hard behind the zipper, and he was moving against me and I cried that night. _

_I was so scared. Afraid, and so, so terrified. _

_I don't know how long it went on, but I began to have reactions to his presence. I fainted sometimes, I even regurgitated. Sometimes I would get so riled, and then so tired. _

_I've never told Mom, I've never told Granny. I've never told Gloria_

_But every Christmas, I go home to Virginia and I have to see him. But thankfully, I avoid him and he avoids me. Whenever Mom would try and get us to talk I'd find some excuse. _

_To tell you the truth, I sob on my way to Virginia. _

_I always cry and I feel sick to my stomach._

_I'd never led a normal life and I never will. _

I blink, not letting any tears out of my eyes. And then skip a whole stack of pages.

_Dear Diary, _

_It's October 22nd 2013_

_I met Michael Jackson today! Yoohoo! Omg, I'm still excited._

_He had a cold, and I was sent up to check on him._

_Sadly, we didn't exchange names. He didn't ask for mine._

I smiled slightly, leaning back on the bed and flipping the page.

_Dear Diary,_

_It's October 24th 2013_

_I'm so afraid. My heart is beating so damn fast. _

_As Michael and I rode away from the Neverland Ranch I looked at him and there were tears in his eyes. _

_I swear, I was dying to ask stubbornly: "Well, if you're sad about it, why'd you leave?" But I never did. I kept my big mouth shut. _

_I was still wondering, out of all the maids, bodyguards and family members of his. Why me? Why the nurse? Why'd he ask me to go through with his escape plan?_

_Yeah, I don't think I'll ever know. _

_Well there's a chance, since we're now in the Cartwright Family Secondary home. _

_I'm tired, and it's dark and cold, so bye Diary. For now. _


	7. 6:27 PM - December 24th

The usual Cartwright thing to do was leave on the _24th_, reach the Cartwright home and sleep there and the next day we'd have the gathering, dinner and toasts. But what I'd do was make up an excuse on the _24th_ and then arrive on the _25th_, keeping my appearances to a minimum.

Things changed for me when I got that text this morning, from Gloria.

_**Gloria**_: _Mommy has something she wants to tell us tonight, so don't pretend to be late again. It seems serious._

To be honest, I never knew anyone picked up on what I did. But that was the least of my concerns.

Right now, my hands are so moist on the steering wheel, and my eyes are clouded with tears. I _don't_ want to see him, I wish he was DEAD. I hate thinking that way about my own stepfather, I hate that I have to think that way because he is a disgusting piece of crap.

I wiped furiously at my face but kept my focus on the road. I had to arrive, I had to find out what my Mommy had to tell us.

Well, at least I had a big reunion to look forward to. The Cartwrights were a large family, I have 7 uncles and 3 aunts, I have Gloria, my older brother Joshua and my-wait, _oh, I forgot_. I don't have a _Stepdad_ any_more_.

I lean back against my seat, already missing the sound of Michael's soft, and charming voice. If there was one person who could get me through this horrible day, it'd probably be him.

It'd probably be Michael Jackson.


	8. 10:30 PM - December 24th

It was dark when I pulled into the driveway of the Cartwright's residence, I sat in the car for a lingering moment, staring at myself in the mirror, then I grabbed a wet wipe and cleaned away the dry tears.

I practiced my put-on, and then smiled cheerily, grabbing my purse as I ducked out of the car. A burgundy jeep was parked close to the bushes, my smile faded. Richard's car.

I gulped, my heart beating so fast and so loud.

He's _here_.

I gripped my fists tightly.

Then I mounted the stairs, raising my fist to the glass, hesitating for a moment before knocking. The door swung open, revealing a blonde Gloria Cartwright, I threw myself into her embrace.

"Oh god, Gloria." I smiled into the hug. "It's so good to see you." I stepped into the house, shutting the door behind me.

The kitchen was empty, so was the hall.

"Where is everybody?" I asked, my eyes searching around.

Gloria took a large sigh. "They're in the living room, I told you there was something Mom had to tell us…" she trailed off, her eyes distant.

"Gloria, what is it?" I asked, cupping the back of my baby-sis's head.

She shrugged, her eyes shining. "I don't know, and I'm scared."

"I'm sure it's something good." I tried to convince her, though I was equally as terrified as she was.

She nodded. "Yeah. Now come on, we have to get there before she tells everyone except us." We headed into the living room.

The living room was always my favorite room in the Cartwright house, there were white couches, positioned in a circle. Right now, my Mother Freya was in the one with it's back to me.

My uncles and aunt's were seated in the couch facing me, and on the couch to the right, was Richard, he was seated beside a woman, she was skinny, dark hair and pretty eyes. Thank god there was an empty couch.

Gloria and I took our seat beside each other on that empty couch.

"Diana," said my uncle David. "It's good to see you."

I nodded in his direction with a smile, replying with: "It's good to see you too." I looked toward my Mother, she looked pale and she reached over to hold Gloria's hand.

"As you all know," said Freya, her voice deep. "I asked you here because there has been something going on with me for the last three years."

I stiffened.

"But before I burden you all, I want to know more about your lives."

No one answered.

"Mom, what did you want to tell us?" Asked Gloria, pleading with her eyes.

My mother looked down at her hands, playing with the rings on them, and I was getting scared with every second that went by.

"I have cancer."


	9. 4:00 AM - December 25th, Christmas Day

I shifted around in the bed, surprisingly not awaking Gloria who was snoring loudly. It's winter and I'm so hot. I'm sweating and my head is pounding.

I can't stop thinking about my Mother, she has cancer?

My heart is beating so fast, I can hear it in my ears.

Oh god, I just want to go back to New York. I want to wake up and know that everything is okay. I want to see Michael, and I want him to comfort me.

I wonder how anyone in this house can sleep after what Mom told us, because I can't. I never thought it'd be this, I thought she'd be announcing a new boyfriend or something. Not _this._

Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I landed on my feet. I don't find comfort with sleep right now, I just want something to drink.

I considered throwing a light jacket over my clothes since I was wearing a purple tank and white pajama shorts, but decided it would be too hot for that. I slipped my feet into slippers and headed down the stairs.

Once I reached the kitchen I realized the light was on in there, when I peered through the door I saw-I saw Richard. He was seated at the table, picking a fork through a salad.

I turned immediately, ready to head back up the stairs.

"Leaving so soon?"

I cringed, turning toward him. "I was just tired." I lied.

He stood from the table and stepped out into the middle area. "That's why you came all the way down here? Because you were _tired_?"

I admit, it was a pretty stupid lie.

"Come on, Wesley, admit it. You came to see me." I always hated how he nicknamed me with my middle name.

I backed up a bit, my ankle knocking painfully against the last stair.

"Actually, I think I'm just going to get some sleep." I prepared to head upstairs when his hand wrapped around my wrist and slammed my back against the wall.

"You think I'd give up the chance of seeing you in your perky little shorts?" He trailed a long finger up my olive toned thigh, I stiffened under his touch. "You look cute, Diana."

I blinked, trying to avoid eye contact with him. I don't want to look this monster in the eye. "Please, just let me go to bed."

"Why have you been avoiding me, huh?" He pressed himself up against me, I could feel the burning of his jeans against my knees.

"I-I haven't." _I have,_ since I moved to New York. "I've been busy with work." I told him, nodding.

Richard shook his head, refusing. "So, arriving one day late for the Cartwright Holidays all have to do with work?"

"Yes."

He smushed me harder into the wall. "Don't lie to me, Diana." He rubbed his nose over my cheek and inhaled my scene. "_Mmm_, you smell good and you're so warm, and plump. Not like all these skinny bitches walking the streets of Virginia."

I cringed in disgust. Who did he think he was?

"I really am tired, _Richie_." I realized my mistake that same instant, I felt Richard's other gender harden against me. I used to call him Richie when I was little, I forgot what effect it had on him.

"Yeah, that's right, say it again." He moaned against my ear.

I resisted the urge to push him away. I still remember the things he used to do when I did.

I was silent, I didn't want to say it again.

His eyes opened. "Diana, say you want me."

I shook my head, my eyes slowly filling with tears. "But I don't."

Richard just looked angry now. "_Say_ you want me, Diana."

"But-"

He grabbed my face, gripping my cheeks with his hands, smushing my face together. "Say it!"

"I want you!" I nearly shouted. "I want you, Richie." Tears spilled freely from my eyes, I pursed my lips to hold it all in.

Richard captured my lips, his hands wandering under the waistband of my shorts, Richard played with the skin there. Growling under his breath as he did so. "Kiss me back, Diana."

I shook my head, my tears still coming down. "I _can't_. I don't want to."

"Diana, stop fucking playing with me right now." He said impatiently, while kissing me, his breathing fast and desperate as he kicked off his shoes, stumbling back while still sucking my face. He reached the couch and I was thrown down onto it. "I know how you like it."


	10. 8:22 AM - December 25th

"Why good morning, Diana. How'd you sleep?" My mother greeted me as I entered the Cartwright kitchen, my hair messed and my clothes wrinkled.

"Well."

I lied, in reality I hadn't gotten any sleep. I was afraid of what I'd dream of.

"_I know how you like it." Richard reached forward to yank my shorts down when a ringing sound echoed through the house. He turned his head toward the kitchen, it was a cellphone on the table near his salad. _

"_Damn." He raced into the kitchen and while he was answering the phone I tugged my shorts back up and darted upstairs, faster than I have ever been, and made it into Gloria's bedroom. _

_There, I locked the door, thankfully mother never took it out of her door, even when she didn't need it._

_I heard the sound of the steps creaking. Richard. _

_My breathing picked up._

"_Diana, open the door." He said against the thin wood. _

"_No." I cried, backing up into the bed. "No." I repeated._

_I heard an angry swear. "Come on, you know you liked it." _

"_I didn't. You forced me to!" I nearly shouted, tears streaming down my face like a waterfall. _

_The sound of Gloria on the bed alerted both of us and I heard his footsteps scurry away. I took a deep breath and climbed in beside Gloria, I wrapped my arms around her and cried my eyes out. _

I know I'm not always going to as lucky as I was last night, there won't be anymore interrupting cell phones and there won't be anymore getaways.

A thought went through my head. "Shouldn't you be resting, Mom?"

"Oh no, don't start." She placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me at the table and my mouth watered in hunger. "Gloria's been spouting stuff like that all day and I just can't take it anymore."

I nodded. "I'm just worried." When another thought flashed through my mind I suddenly had no appetite. I stood and approached my mother at the stove. "Are you...terminal?" I asked, in a whisper.

I was so scared. I don't even think I want an answer but too late.

"Don't you _ever_ ask me that again, Diana Wesley Cartwright. Don't you _ever_." She slammed the spatula down on the counter and stormed out of the kitchen.

In a way, a part of me was glad she turned down my question. The other part, was just angry that she got angry at me.


	11. 10:30 PM - December 25th

I went through dinner easily every year. And I'd avoided Richard easily too. But somehow it's harder this year, I feel like he'll kill me if we're in the same room. I avoid him and I make sure the room is full whenever we're in the same one. I was finally making progress when I went to the kitchen for salt and Richard came after me.

"So, Diana. What is this, newfound antipathy for me?"

Newfound? Pff, was he crazy? I've always hated him. Still, I avoided his question and walked over to the cabinet, there I grabbed Laker's salt.

"Come on, Diana-" He reached for my elbow.

I jumped back, slapping his hand away. "You forced me to have sex with you for _five_ years, Richard, and you were going to do it again last night." I felt my eyes water and I willed them to stay away, I didn't want him to see them. "I hate you, Richard Tinsel, I hate you now, I hated you then and I will always hate you. A day won't go by that I won't. Accept the damn fact and move the hell on!" I shout, lowering my voice at the end.

"Diana Wesley Cartwright!" I whirled at the horrified voice of my mother, she was flushed angrily and she was looking at me like dirt. "We need to talk." She flashed Richard an apologetic glance before grabbing my arm.

I let her pull me from the kitchen and into the hall. "Just who the hell do you think you are?" She folded her arms over her heaving chest.

"Mom-"

"Diana, I raised you to be a _good_ daughter, _the best_ daughter, actually. Better than Gloria." I wanted to protest to that, I even opened my mouth to do so when she held up a hand to cut me off. "Don't-I don't even want to hear it, there's no excuse, Richard has always been a good father to you."

I couldn't take this defensiveness. "But he cheated on you, Mom! He was with other girls while you two were _married_!" I cut her off before she could say anything. "And I know he hit you, don't lie and say he didn't."

"He apologized," said Freya, I barely knew who she was right now. "And maybe if you'd actually try get to know him, you'd realize that he is a good man. He means well." She shook her head at me. "Now we're going to go into that dining room and eat like civilized women, I don't want to see a glare, I don't want to hear a snarky remark. I want you to act like _me._"

"Well, Mom, that'd be easy if I knew who _you_ were." I pushed past her, leaving her in the hall.

In the end, I obeyed my mother. She did have cancer, after all. I didn't send any glares to Richard, mostly because I didn't even look at him.

And I didn't speak at all.

It was only then that I realized my mother had only heard the last part of Richard and my conversation, and I realized what I must look like in her eyes.


	12. 1:57 PM - January 5th

Popping another block of ice into my mouth, I strolled past the CW channel and went straight for **24HOUR** News, I dropped the remote on the hotel bed and waited.

As soon as the commercials went off a familiar looking woman appeared on the screen, I gasped at the recognition. "Michael had those huge, expressive, beautiful, cute, dark '_puppy eyes_'." She spoke.

Oh, how could I have forgotten her. _Janet Jackson_! Michael's sister, who looks almost exactly like him.

Still, I was wondering why she was using past-tense, she couldn't have thought...Oh, god. Does she think he's _dead_?

I sat up on the bed, putting the ice bucket on the bedside dresser and pulled the duvet over my bare legs. I rested my head back while I listened to the television. I might actually fall asleep this way.

"_It's been three months since the mysterious disappearance of Michael Joseph Jackson._" I let my eyes close, slowly drifting off, somehow the news anchor doesn't get quiet. "_It seems the Jackson family have finally caught a break in the disappearance,_" my eyes snapped open, I sat up straight on the bed, eyes wide. A break?. "_After checking the Neverland Ranch's security cameras, there seems to be a blue minivan caught on tape racing from the Ranch's grounds. The van belongs to a 24-year-old Diana Cartwright who began working as a nurse at the singer's home,_ _and was never seen at the Ranch the day Singer Michael Jackson went missing. She hasn't been spotted since__._"

Oh My _Bleeping_ God.

I reached over for my purse and dialed in a number, I brought the phone to my ear when I heard the click. "We have a _problem_."


	13. 2:30 PM - January 5th

The view from the Reese Hotel was spectacular, that's why I'd chosen this place to reside. I hadn't been home since Christmas. In other words, I haven't seen Michael since.

I'd told him where I was and asked if he could come to the hotel, he'd said yes. I wonder how he'll get here without arousing screaming fans.

I put all my weight on my left foot as I trailed my finger on the window, drawing _MJ_ in the condensation with my finger. I tilted my head and smiled at it. The only light in this darkness.

A knock sounded through the apartment, I jumped, turning toward the door. A few more knocks came, they were impatient. I slowly walked toward the door and stared through the peekhole. All I saw was dark clothes and I knew who it was.

Quickly, I yanked open the door, allowing him to slide in, and then shut it. I bolted it down and turned toward him.

Michael was wearing blue medical scrubs, his face clear of any and all make up. And his hair, those usually long ink-black curls were snipped to his cheekbones. I was...amazed.

His disguise made him look completely different. And _so_ beautiful.

Then I remembered why he was even here in the first place.

"Micha-"

"I watched the news." He ran an frustrated hand through his hair. "I _should _have _gotten_ those security tapes." He said, in a half whisper.

I smirked. "While we were driving away from your home?"

He looked up at me, realizing what he'd just said and a smile broke across his face. I would die to see that smile everyday of my miserable life.

The smile slipped away easily. "Diana, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do this to you. I wasn't thinking." He walked over to where I had been standing a few minutes ago. I watched his eyes run over the _MJ_ in the condensation.

I cringed. Embarrassed.

"I should have done this alone." He said, as if he hadn't seen what I'd drawn on the glass.

"Michael, stop. It's fine." I said, waving away his apologies.

He shook his head. "It's _not_ fine, Annie."

"Look, I know _you're_ sorry," I snapped, angrily. "But that isn't going to change the fact that #_dirtydiana_ is trending worldwide on _Twitter_!" I shouted loudly, and he flinched. I tried to calm my heaving chest as I sat down on the bed and dropped my face into my hands.

Michael ambled over to me, taking a seat beside me on the queen-sized hotel bed. Before I could say something, he reached over and took my hand in his. "Diana, I'm going to get you out of this. I _promise_."

"Do you keep promises?" I asked in a low whisper, my wide eyes pleading for an answer from him.

"Yes, Diana, I _do._" He offered me a smile, and I grinned back.


	14. 3:25 PM - January 6th

"_Annie? Annie, wake up, Annie_." I groaned, groggily opening my eyes to see a beautiful pale face blotting out the hotel ceiling. "Hey."

I sat up in bed, excessively scratching itches that weren't there. It was a habit. The Hotel room was filled with the sunlight, and the curtains were open. "I got you breakfast," said Michael, placing a plastic bowl of ranch-drenched salad and another filled with fruit onto my lap.

"Thanks." I muttered, though I was kind of in the mood for eggs, bacon and possibly a burger? Still, I acted grateful and popped a grape in my mouth, grinning as he strolled to the other side of the bed with plates of his own and crawled into bed beside me.

"Sorry I didn't get you real food," he said apologetically. "Everyone kept giving me comments about how I '_reminded them of someone,_' or '_looked familiar_,' I knew I had to get out of there."

I laughed hoarsely. "Yeah, don't apologise. It was earned."

I pretended to mix my salad while watching him in the corner of my eye as he stabbed the lettuce with his fork and brought it to his mouth. He must eat healthy alot. To have this slim body at 35.

I reached over to the desk beside the bed and grabbed the remote. I clicked the TV on and nearly dropped the orange slice when I saw a large picture of me up on **24HOUR** News.

Michael put his food away the second he saw my _real_ face, I was as white as a sheet. My mouth hanging ajar. I looked back at the photo on the TV screen. My hair had been a darker shade of brown, and my skin had a more healthy olive glow to it.

How did they obtain a photo of me? Unless…

"_We contacted the family of Diana Cartwright_," said James Bartholomew on the TV, scrunching his eyebrows seriously. "_Hear what they have to say_."

I stiffened when ,my Mother's face popped onto the screen, Gloria was standing beside her, looking contorted and I could see the Cartwright House behind them. "_My Diana has always held an unhealthy obsession with Mr. Jackson_," she shook her head. "_I just never thought she'd ever do something like this_."

I clenched my jaw angrily, and sadly. Did she really hate me that much?

One fight with Richard and this is what it's come to?

_An unhealthy obsession_?

I could Michael's sympathetic expression from the corner of my eye, but I gaze up at the TV screen. I want to know more.

Oh god.

Richard's face comes up on the screen, I can see my sister, and mother in the background. "_She lied to us about where she worked, where she lived, we have no idea where she is. Even her cell phone goes straight to voicemail_."

I can't stand to look at the lying son of a bitch!

"_Right now, we can only assume that she's on the run_." He shakes his head at the screen.

And then it goes back to James's charming face.

"_As of now, Diana Cartwright is wanted for questioning at the Brooklyn Police Department. We are looking forward to seeing you, Diana_." He stares directly at me, suddenly I feel a weird sensation in my stomach.

I slam my food onto the bedside desk and race toward the bathroom, I open the toilet lid and vomit. I hear Michael behind me, I feel his knees in my back as he sits behind me on the floor.

"_Diana_-"

"I thought it was going to be _okay_," I cried, tears spilling down my cheeks. I never liked to cry, but right now, I don't care. "I didn't think it would come _this_ far!"

"Neither did I," he placed a hand on my back. "But you're going to be okay, _Diana_, I pr-"

"You what? You _promise_?" I look back at him. "All I look like to them is a _mentally-obsessed _fangirl who abducted her _idol!_" I shut my eyes, wiping away my tears until my face was dry. "I just want this to be over." I said impassively.

"Then I'll leave." Said Michael, standing. As if disappointed.

I shook my head. "That's not what I meant, Michael." I sighed, flushing the toilet and going for the sink. "What I _want_, is beyond your control."


	15. 3:30 PM - January 7th

I lowered the blue cap on my head as I added a package of _Yoplait_ into my cart. I was careful not to make eye contact with anyone as I rounded the corner and approached an empty aisle.

As I began stuffing my cart with junk food, and reached over for a _Pepsi_ a song played in the store. If it was in any under circumstance I would have loved it. But the song, was this a joke?

_Michael Jackson - Dirty Diana_

I tried to hide the fact that I was offended for no reason and agressively pushed the cart toward the self-check out area. As I approached the area and began self-checking stuff out. I turned to look at the magazines.

**DIRTY **_**DIANA**_ **& WACKO** _**JACKO**_ **= SOULMATES? **I scoffed angrily at that before grabbing the tabloid and turning it on it's back so I wouldn't see it anymore. It made me sick how people could just believe lies someone writes. How do you know it's true?

Apparently, Michael and I are both crazy.

Curiously, I grabbed some other magazine and read the title: _**JACKO**_ **KING-NAPPED BY DIRTY **_**DIANA. **_

"_Dirty Diana! No! Dirty Diana! No."_ Michael sang from the speakers.

Why am I reading this stuff if it just hurts me? I don't know.


	16. 4:04 PM - January 7th

Arriving back at the Reese Hotel and finding Michael weeping over a picture of his family made me even more curious, and more anxious to ask him the question I've been dying to ask for the last 3 months.

"_Why did you leave?" _But of course I didn't ask him that, I shut the door softly. Michael, who was sitting on the bedside chair quickly sat up and wiped his face clear of tears.

"Hey," I said, dropping my shopping items on the desk. "I brought some junk food. You hungry?" I tossed him a can of _Pepsi_.

He caught it easily. "Thanks." He looked over to the window, staring out at the showering rain. Thankfully, I'd gotten inside before any of it touched me.

"_Michael, why'd you leave your home?_" I blurted before I could stop myself, and when I was ready to take it back he stood up and brushed his dark hair back.

"I can't tell you." He ran a hand through his snipped hair again, he looked nervous.

"Michael," I sat down my own can of soda and approached him by the window. Placing my hand on his shoulder. "You _can_."

"Would you believe me if I said I just didn't want to live like that anymore?" He looked over at me, with pleading eyes.

I scoffed. "Do you even look at yourself when you perform? Michael, I know you're happy with your life, and I know you love your family. And don't lie and say you were tired of the fans. _You simply can't get enough_!"

I giggled as I evoked a wide smile across his face.

"If there's one thing I can't do, it's lie." He told me.

My expression softened. "What's the real reason, Michael?"

"I can't tell you now, Diana. I promise I will, just not right now."

I can't say I wasn't disappointed but maybe I understood. "Alright, I won't push you. Not if you don't drink that soda I gave you."

He went straight for the _Pepsi_, making me grin.


	17. 10:50 PM - January 10th

I stepped out of the bath tub, I'm so lazy right now I could use a shower bed. I grabbed a cloth, and began toweling out my wet hair. It was scraggly, brown like chocolate and in need of a snip.

I wrapped the light blue towel around my curving figure and padded over to the window. The rain had cleared up, the streets were now just damp. I squinted across the street when I saw a police cruiser parked.

I quickly shut the curtains, imagining someone watching me through the window. I shake away my moment of paranoia and saunter over to the Hotel dresser.

I grab a silky blue blouse with frills on the breasts, I admire that for a second before stuffing it back into the drawers. I want to wear something...I don't know. Laughing at myself, I dig deeper into the drawer and my eyes land on a silk blue tunic.

I pick out some black skinny jeans and then shut the drawers. Ready to turn back to the bathroom when-

"_Diana, I think that_-" Michael had just been entering the room, his eyes landed on me and they widened. "Oh." He said.

I tightened the towel around myself. "I'm just going to get dressed." I say, slowly heading for the bathroom.


	18. 11:00 PM - January 10th

Michael turned at the tread of my footsteps coming from the bathroom, I was warmly dressed in the tunic and jeans. My hair was braided into two pigtails, something I'd come up with after a series of messing with my hair.

Michael had been sitting on the bed one of his feet tucked under himself, the other dangling over the side of the bed. He grabbed the remote and looked toward me. "Maybe we should see what's happening right now."

He clicked on the remote. The TV turned on.

Truthfully, I was scared of the news now.

Reluctantly, I sat beside him on the other side of the bed, the same way he was sitting and stared up at the TV. What now?

"_Welcome back to_ **24HOUR** News, _I'm your host James Bartholomew_. _Now back to the Michael Jackson case_." James took a breath, that one breath all News Anchors took before they dropped the news on you. I held my breath before he spoke. "Michael Jackson's fans and supporters create a protest outside of 24HOUR News Studios, wearing"-James laughs a bit- "Claiming that Diana Cartwright should be hunted and put in prison, they're also wearing Anti-Diana jackets."

The screen switches to crouds of people holding up borders and signs. I read one: **HOW IS THIS A FAN? **

Another**: DIRTY DIANA, NO!**

I take a moment to read the back of their jackets**: PSYCHOPATHIC DEVOTEE, LET MICHAEL GO! **There's my graduation picture in the middle, a prohibition sign in red on my face.

"Don't look at that." Michael switches off the television and pulls me by my elbows into his arms. I snake my arms around his neck. Trying to hold back the cries I'm sure are coming soon. "Diana, let it go. It's alright."

I shake my head, burying my face in his shoulder. "But I don't want to, Michael." I tell him, feeling protected as he slides his arms across my back.

"Yes you do, Diana." He strokes the back of my braided head, rocking back and forth. "So, just...let it go."

"But-" I can't hold it in anymore, a sob erupts from my mouth and cling onto him tighter. "_Why is this happening to me_? _What did I do_?" I cried into his neck, feeling my body shake in his arms.


End file.
